That Good Night
by cojack
Summary: C/7. Forty-five years post-Endgame, Chakotay and Seven reflect on life and death on their last morning after long and satisfying lives together. Warning: major character deaths.


DISCLAIMER: It's Paramount's galaxy.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: C/7. Forty-five years post-Endgame, Chakotay and Seven reflect on life and death on their last morning after long and satisfying lives together. Warning: major character deaths.

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That Good Night

Stardate 98014.3

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The waves lapped lazily onto the shore. Chakotay placed the book he was reading in his lap and sipped his morning tea. Finding it had become luke warm, he placed the cup back on the table beside his lounge chair. The breeze off the Atlantic was refreshing and he closed his eyes to feel the soft moistness on his face. Perhaps today he would go for a short walk on the beach. He heard Seven working in her studio and wondered what she was creating. In recent months, she had been experimenting with painting again. Mostly sweeping landscapes in acrylic, and he personally thought they were some of her best work. Working now exclusively with her right hand, however, she was unsatisfied with the results.

Long retired from Starfleet, Chakotay and Seven continued to explore their other varied interests. They felt it important to stay active, both mentally and physically. Seven's trans-warp field theory research had given way years ago to artistic endeavors. Sculpting for a time, when she had full use of both hands. Something Admiral Janeway had introduced to her long ago back on _Voyager_. Also music. In fact, at one time she had been an accomplished pianist, playing at various venues throughout the Earth system, and often times her own compositions. Now she painted, primarily in water color, acrylics, and holography. For Chakotay, his historical research continued, although at a much slower pace. They both loved the water, and walking along the white sands that stretched out in front of their home. Less frequently now, however, due to their declining health. He felt for the book in his lap, and half-heartedly looked for the place where he had left off. A few weeks back a comment a Romulan historian made had distracted him from his own work and he was reading up on the formation of the Federation in the mid 22nd century. He shook his head thinking how he really needed to get back to his own writing.

"What are you reading today?"

Chakotay turned to see Seven wheel up beside him, her chair morphing slowly to become a lounge like his. Her white hair was tied up, and she looked as radiant as when he met her forty-eight years before. Well, perhaps not the day he first met her, for she was still a Borg drone then and attached to the Collective, but close enough. She reached for Chakotay's tea cup and replaced it with a new one she had carried from the kitchen.

"An account of the formation of the United Federation of Planets."

"Still? I thought you had finished that."

Chakotay smiled. "Well, that book was one written using the personal notes of the key participants from Earth and Vulcan and was published just a few years ago. This one is a translation of some of the events written by a representative from the Andorian delegation to the conference. I'm particularly interested in his descriptions of Jonathan Archer and T'Pol."

Seven nodded knowingly. "Ah, Archer and T'Pol. You have spoken about them before."

Chakotay leaned closer to Seven. "Very intriguing. Think about it. They served together for a decade as captain and first officer on the first warp 5 ship, and after that, stayed together in various assignments. In a very real sense, their developing friendship and eventual relationship was representative of the growing alliance between Earth and Vulcan at the time, and ultimately, the formation of the Federation itself."

"I've heard that a famous Vulcan ambassador to Earth was inspired to marry an Earth female because of their romance," Seven teased.

Chakotay laughed. "OK, I get the hint. I'm sure you've heard enough of my ramblings. I just find it fascinating, filling in the details what's not in the standard history books. Two very different people, and yet drawn together." He sipped at his tea, and then added, "Reminds me of another couple I know. I wonder what future history books will say of our romance?"

"Hmmm. What about that holo-novel that was published soon after we arrived back on Earth where I crash landed on Dorvan-Five as a Borg drone and met you as a young man preparing to go to Starfleet Academy?"

"How could I forget," Chakotay answered enthusiastically. "That was riveting. Resistance is futile."

Seven rolled her eyes, but continued. "There are plenty of accounts describing our romance and Voyager's adventures in the Delta Quadrant already published and available, we don't have to wait for future historians to write their accounts. Some of the historians, I would say, get just as carried away with their imagination as the novelists. Remember that so-called historical holo-adventure Tom had us go through years ago?"

"Indeed, the writers had you and me together soon after the Doctor removed your first Borg implants."

"Exactly. Elements of truth throughout, but very wrong in many of the details. I suspect most of these so-called historical accounts have flaws like that throughout. History remembers what it wants, and we read into history what we want to hear."

Chakotay looked back out across the Atlantic in thought. "I don't know. The feel of it was right. Almost as if we were back in the Delta Quadrant. Besides, in my memory our time on Voyager has become all compressed together. I'm happy the holo-adventure has the two of us together from the start. Perhaps that's the way it should have been."

"No doubt, but still not quite the truth."

"Oh, I know the truth, and I'm quite happy with that as well. It's the investigation of history, sorting through the bias and misinformation to find the nugget of truth that I find enjoyable."

"It would be easier if everything was simply recorded and history was the unaltered and unfiltered facts."

Chakotay snorted. "The sad fact is, recordings can be altered, false ones created, and perception can be manipulated. I'm afraid we're stuck with what we have." He looked back towards Seven's studio and said, "so how is your painting going today?"

Seven became downcast. "The tremors in my hand are a little worse. Quite honestly, I'm not really feeling myself today."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was thinking we might try a short walk on the beach today."

"That would be nice. I'm willing to try, but let's bring a lounge along in tow, just in case." Seven shook her legs unconsciously. Communication from her cortical node to the rest of her Borg implants was becoming a problem. When the ones in her legs didn't respond, it made walking almost impossible. "Can you believe," Seven said, trying to change the subject, "Kolopak is about to graduate from Starfleet Academy?" .

"Third generation Starfleet," Chakotay mused. Kolopak was one of Ixchell's triplets, and the first of Seven and Chakotay's grandchildren to join. Ixchell was their only child, although they had officially adopted Mezoti when she was fourteen and included Icheb and his wife Jaxa also as their adopted children, although that was more unofficially. They had both wanted more, but the strain on Seven during her pregnancy with Ixchell had been severe, and they had been advised that another pregnancy would be dangerous. "Two of three is really following in her mother's and grandmother's footsteps."

Seven smiled. They had gotten into the habit of referring to the triplets using a pseudo Borg reference, and sometimes even Ixchell used this. "Kolopak is a unique individual, but I am pleased he is seeking a commission as a science officer. I think he has it in him to truly advance trans-warp theory."

"Pick up where you and Ixchell left off."

"Exactly."

"There was a time when we considered leaving Starfleet. I don't imagine Ixchell would have joined, or now Kolopak if we had."

"I remember," Seven mused. "Aboard the _Sacagawea_. Ixchell was so young, and it was difficult for me. That's when we picked up Mezoti from Norcadia." She turned to Chakotay and touched his face tenderly. "In the end, I think we made the right decision. I wouldn't change a thing now, and it does please me that both Ixchell and now Kolopak have traits and talents inherited from me."

Chakotay grinned. "There must be something Kolopak inherited from me. Perhaps my good looks?"

"Actually, I think he looks more like Colin," Seven replied with a smile, and then turned somber and added, "It's not only my arm that is causing me some trouble this morning. I'm… I hope we're able to even attend his graduation."

The specter of their deteriorating health was hard not to think about. Chakotay reached over and wrapped his hand over Seven's. Indeed, recent months had seen many setbacks. He was suffering from multiple myeloma and had stopped responding to the standard treatment. The more aggressive treatments were proving to be ineffective as well. It was only a matter of time now. Starfleet medical gave him two to six months. Concurrently to his illness, Seven's Borg components were finally reaching their end of life and were beginning to shut down. Her left arm was nearly paralyzed and her cortical node was malfunctioning. More troubling, the seizures this produced were becoming more frequent, and the prognosis was that she had even less time than he.

Chakotay was now ninety-three years old and Seven seventy-four, and they had been married for forty-three years. How marvelous those years together had been. Memories and experiences that formed them and now defined who they were as individuals and a couple were ever present, ready to be examined and cherished. The years on _Voyager_ and the beginnings of their friendship and romance – awakened during their time together with the Ventu, and exploring their feelings with those tentative first dates. The sudden return to Earth - celebrating the New Year together under the Aurora Borealis, swimming under the stars, and coming to decisions on their future wants and goals. From committing their life to each other, to the birth of Ixchell, to their time aboard the _Sacagawea_, to now their retirement in Belize – what an adventure. A journey for both of them, enriched by their being able to share that journey with the other.

And now, as with everything in the universe, that journey was coming to an end. A beginning, a middle, and an ending, as with everything in the greater multiverse. But with endings come new beginnings. A star may shed its atmosphere when it swells into a red giant at the end of its lifetime, or even explode in a violent supernova, but it is from this material that new stars are formed. When ones life in the universe ends, does the consciousness that animates it simply cease to exist, or does it begin anew in a new existence? Are all those memories and experiences lost forever into the ether?

Another soft breeze moved the flags beside their porch. Chakotay squeezed Seven's hand again, her human hand, and she responded with a squeeze of her own. Maintaining the physical connection between them. Is the physical all there is, or is there something more than this physical reality? Beyond space-time and subspace? These questions danced in Seven's head. Questions that had no easy answers.

"Tell me again what you believe will happen to our souls after we die," Seven asked, expressing her thoughts.

A soul. According to some, the spiritual or immaterial part of a human being, or other sentient creature, or even animal, regarded as immortal. That unique piece that defines who you are. Your hopes, your fears, and your dreams. Something intangible, and unexplainable by science, but if real, precious beyond comprehension. Seven wasn't sure souls even existed. Ethereal and beyond measurement, they alluded her examination.

"Well, let's boil it down to two basic questions that science can't answer," Chakotay began. "First, is the multiverse a creation or does it simply exist in and of itself? And second, does our consciousness continue after physical death, or does it cease to exist? Or, if you like, do we have a soul? There are those who believe in each of the four possible combinations of answers. In fact, some believe so fervently in their ideas that they marginalize those who don't share their beliefs."

"And we know someone like that for each of the four possible combinations as well."

"Indeed. As for me, I believe the multiverse is a creation and I believe we have a soul. There is both the physical and the spiritual. Our souls, being spiritual, are immortal and do live on. I believe as some do that we can still contact the souls of those who have died. And I have also come to believe our souls join with the Creators of the multiverse after death."

"Achieve perfection," Seven added wistfully.

Chakotay smiled. Even after all these years, echoes of her time in the Collective were always present. "Yes, I suppose that is one way to put it."

"And we will be together?" Seven asked, knowing well what his answer would be.

Chakotay nodded. "I can't imagine perfection in union with the Creators, unless it was also in union with you. Forever."

Seven turned serious. "My faith, if you can even call it that, is not as strong as yours, Chakotay. You know I have questions… and doubts. The analytic part of me demands proof, and that proof is unobtainable. I can't answer either question."

"I know, there is always doubt for all of us" Chakotay replied and squeezed her hand again. They had spoken of these things often and knew exactly what the other believed and how they felt. Chakotay felt the 'proof' was all about them. In the very fabric of the multiverse, in the delicate dance of the unfolding timeline within his universe and in his vision quests, the signature of Creators was alive and present. He could understand Seven's perspective, just as he was sure she understood his own. Over the years the two of them had complimented each other well. Two sides, but of the same coin.

"There are many civilizations that do not believe in an afterlife. Death is the ultimate death – a cessation of existence," Seven stated. "Many humans believe this as well, and they can still face death with dignity and no qualms. An afterlife is not needed to have a fulfilled life."

"Yes. There are other civilizations, and many humans, who do not believe in Creators of the multiverse," Chakotay said. "We are free to believe anything we want, and I choose to believe in Creators and in an afterlife." Chakotay turned from Seven and looked again out across the ocean. "Regardless of what we believe, however, there is the truth, and the truth is absolute. It is undoubtedly complicated, and perhaps beyond our comprehension, but it exists. All our arguments, all our attempts to convince or be convinced are irrelevant. It's like the truth in history. We can read historical accounts, and believe them outright or suspect bias, but regardless of what we believe, there is but one way the events unfolded. One truth that is immutable."

"Whether it is unobtainable or not." Seven said.

Seven followed Chakotay's gaze and turned to the ocean. It was relatively calm, and as they watched, a school of dolphin passed in front of their house, only twenty meters or so off the shore. Most only showed their pectoral fins as they surfaced for air, but some leaped out of the water. A pod of spinner dolphins heading north. Seven marveled at their grace, recalling fondly the times when she and Chakotay had been able to swim with these creatures off their beach. It had been years ago, but the memories remained vivid. Again, she returned to a previous chain of thoughts. All these memories. All these experiences and thoughts that defined who she was. Simple chemical and electric impulses encoded in the biological tissue of her brain, or tethered more strongly to a spiritual and immortal soul?

"With what little faith I do possess, I suppose I will choose to believe and possibly be wrong," Seven concluded. "It does no harm, and is preferable to thinking death is truly the end."

Seven's hand trembled beneath Chakotay's. Chakotay held hers tighter, trying to will what strength he had into her to stop the seizure. This time it passed quickly and she relaxed. Growing old was difficult.

"Should we call the Doctor?"

"What good would it do now? The simulations on replacing the cortical node have all ended disastrously. I don't know how many times he tried. He might be still trying for all I know, but I asked him to stop giving me updates. Borg drones were never meant to live as long as I have, and so for efficiency, the Borg implants are not designed for bodies of my age. There is nothing that can be done."

"You'd think with the Collective's desire for perfection, it would have endeavored to perfect those damn cybernetic implants." There was bitterness in Chakotay's voice. His wife's pain made him suffer as well.

Seven frowned. "I suppose in the end, an individual drone to the Collective is like an individual cell to the overall body. Easily replaced and easily discarded." Seven closed her eyes. The ideals of perfection and desires for improvements so central to the hive mind of the Collective still echoed sometimes in her mind, and yet it rang hollow when examined against the stark reality of the Collective's indifference to the individual. How important her individuality had become to her, particularly since she had the experience of losing that individuality.

"Who's coming today?" Chakotay asked after a time.

"Jaxa, for a late lunch. It's nice talking to her."

"She does seem the one most willing to listen to my stories and ramblings."

"She is genuinely interested," Seven replied earnestly. "She's becoming the next family historian. She wants the whole family over next week."

The children took turns coming to check in on them each day. Ixchell, Mezoti, now that she was back on Earth, Icheb, Jaxa, and Ixchell's husband Colin. In recent months Kathryn, Icheb and Jaxa's oldest, also came regularly. Their other grandchildren visited more irregularly, but often enough to enliven their days with new stories and adventures. How fortunate she felt to know each of them. So different, and yet linked together in a family.

Seven's hand convulsed again. "I'm not feeling well," she said.

Chakotay didn't answer. A sense of foreboding suddenly filling him. At least for him and Seven, it was only their bodies that were failing. For some, their minds also failed. Many of his friends had suffered or were suffering varying degrees of dementia, alleviated greatly by the new drugs being researched, but ultimately not cured. Old age and its associated infirmities was one aspect of living that medicine continued to delay, but not eliminate. True, human life expectancy was now over one hundred years, but mortality was real and death was still waiting in the end.

"I love you," he finally said.

Before Seven could answer, she stiffened, another seizure caused by her cortical node wrecking havoc on her body. "Chakotay, I'm scared" she whispered through clenched teeth. Chakotay held her human hand in his, trying again to will his strength into her broken frame. The seizure ended abruptly and Seven's eyes brightened. As she looked out across the Atlantic, her attention appeared focused on something else.

"Chakotay. Oh... Oh my."

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Jaxa materialized in the house and instantly sensed something was wrong. Chakotay and Seven were not there to greet her, and she immediately called their names. After receiving no response, she began looking anxiously about the house for them.

She found them on their chairs, side by side on the deck that overlooked the beach and ocean. Chakotay was leaning over from his chair to embrace Seven, his head buried into her neck and shoulder. Seven's eyes were open, but glassy, and Chakotay remained still. After a brief examination, she realized that both were dead. Later it was determined by Starfleet medical that they had died within an hour of each other. Seven's cortical node having suddenly and completely stopped functioning, and Chakotay's body in his grief finally giving up its struggle against the cancer that had invaded it.

Jaxa backed away, tears welling up in her eyes. She reached for her communicator and activated it. "Icheb…," she began, but her voice caught and she couldn't say anything else. Of course she knew it had always been possible she would be the one to find them this way, but she had succeeded in pushing these thoughts out of her mind. Despite this, she had never considered that one would go without the other. They had loved each other too deeply. She began to sob, and turned away.

Icheb materialized moments later and hurried over to embrace Jaxa.

They both cried in each other's arms.

#

The morning sun was melting the frost from the lawn at Starfleet Academy's Terrazo. The ceremony had ended shortly before, attended by over a thousand, including dignitaries of Starfleet and the Federation. The hundreds of friends from across the sector who had come were now returning to their homes, whether on Earth or other planet in the sector. Word of Seven and Chakotay's passing was making its way by subspace or starship to the far reaches of the quadrant and beyond. They had touched the lives of many in some way. Their guidance, influence, and memories would live on as a lasting legacy for generations.

A retired Starfleet Commander in his full dress uniform walked along the path that bordered the Terrazo carrying a small bundle under his arm. The rest of the family was gathering at the beach house in Belize, and he would join them soon. Looking up where the path turned back towards the Academic Quad, he started up a faint trail that led into the trees.

At the top of the small rise, he stopped in the center of a grass filled clearing and knelt down placing the bundle he carried carefully in front of him. He untied the cord that held the bundle together, and opened it so the outer fabric lay flat on the ground and what had been contained within was now arranged on top.

He first picked up a piece of metal, cylindrical and symmetric with a translucent band at the center and about four centimeters long and one wide. Seven's original cortical node. He carefully examined it, cradled it close to his heart, and then placed it off to one side of the fabric. Next he picked up a stone. From his homeworld, given to him by Chakotay. Again, he held it close, before placing it carefully next to the cylinder. Finally, he picked up a metal ornament. It was a Bajoran earring. One that had inspired him to make a decision all those years ago that has made all the difference. He smiled and placed this beside the other two artifacts. The last item in the bundle was a device about the size of his palm. He placed his left hand on the corrugated pad and red lights flashed on the top of the device.

"A-koo-chee-moya," he began and closed his eyes. "I am far from the sacred places of my grandfathers. I am far from the bones of my people. But I ask, on this day of sorrow, that the wisdom of my mentors… my parents, find me and help me understand and move forward in my journey. Seven and Chakotay, speak to me …"

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THE END

AUTHOR'S POSTSCRIPT. I've been trying to write self-contained stories, but to also build up a coherent timeline within the greater web of multiverse timelines represented in the C/7 fanfiction community. This timeline includes Stardate 54999.4 "Aurora" (TEYA), Stardate 55130.1 "Once More to the Journey" (TEYA), Stardate 55787.2 "Leap of Faith" (cojack), Stardate 57750.3 "One is for Sorrow" (TEYA, although ~ 3 years earlier than in original story), Stardate 57817.1 "The River of Time" (cojack), Stardate 59831.5 "Borg do not Gyrate" (TEYA, although again ~3 years earlier than in original story), Stardate 60825.3 "Shadows of the Raven" (cojack – one I'm working on now), and Stardate 98014.3 "That Good Night" (cojack). For TEYA's stories, it is only something similar in this timeline, and so her stories could diverge in whatever direction(s) she chooses.

References also to ST:VOY episode Natural Law, ST:ENT episode These Are the Voyages and the premise for scifiromance's "The Gift" fan fiction (I just couldn't resist for those last two). Lots of room for other stories in this timeline (or perhaps existing ones already belong)… any thoughts on that?

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